


Mojo

by skyeward



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Paragon Commander Shepard, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyeward/pseuds/skyeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “Jackanda - Jack confides in her feelings about Miranda to Shepard (Female or Male who doesn’t like Miranda in general)” …I hope it’s okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mojo

Shepard is way too goody-two-shoes for this, but fuck if anybody else is stupid enough to keep coming down into the godforsaken hole Jack’s crawled into and actually talk to her. Even the wannabe psychologist has kept out for so long that the convict actually went up to the CIC in order to leave her message. She took the service ducts, of course - elevators aren’t her style. Too bad salarians don’t startle easy.

The result of her little field trip is the sound of Shepard’s boots on the stairs leading down into her cubby - honestly she probably could have just waited and the woman would have appeared on her own, nosy bitch that she is, but her visits have slacked off some since Jack started yelling at her every time she tries to talk. Hard to imagine why.

“Kelly says you wanted to speak with me,” the redhead begins without preamble, drawing close enough that she can rest one hip against the table that takes up half the usable space and crossing her arms over her chest. “What about?”

Jack doesn’t answer at first, simply casting her gaze upwards from where she’s sitting sideways on top of her cot. Her booted feet hang off the edge by the heels, her legs bent and her back and shaven skull rest on the cold metal wall. She wants to move, but Shepard’s too close, so instead she thumps her fists on her raised thighs and forces the words out. 

“It’s about the cheerleader…Miranda, I mean.” She doesn’t know that she’s ever spoken the other woman’s name out loud before, and it tastes funny in her mouth. She fights the urge to spit. Shepard just sighs, sounding irritated. She’s never been a fan of Cerberus or of the operative tacked onto her crew like a tumor, and it shows.

“What’s she done this time? I thought I told her to leave you alone after Pragia. I’ll go talk to her.”

That is, of course, absolutely the last fucking thing Jack wants to happen right now. She barely manages to keep from throwing a stasis field in that direction, to keep the other woman from getting any ideas.

“Shit, Shepard, chill the fuck out and listen for a minute. She didn’t ‘do’ shit, I just got something to say. Ask, I guess. Fuck, I don’t fuckin’ know! Just, just listen and tell me what to do, okay?”

The other woman doesn’t look convinced, green eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she makes no move to leave. Good. Jack’s a lot better at ripping things to pieces than holding them still and she doesn't have a lot of practice with stasis fields, so there was always the chance she could accidentally rip the commander apart instead.

“Fine. Say your piece.”

“Shit.” Jack doesn’t know what to say, much less how to say it. She turns and lays down on the cot, staring at the ceiling as if it’s got the secrets of the universe or something. “Fuck.”

There’s a moment of silence, and she can  _feel_  Shepard standing there, looking at her,  _judging_  her, as if she’s got room to judge. Three hundred thousand batarians and who knows how many other lives on her hands, she’s more of a killer than Jack has ever been. Brown eyes flick over to the standing woman. Then again, the ex-con wouldn’t have locked herself in her room for a week after that. Hell, she’d probably have thrown a party if she was the one to wipe an entire batarian system off the map. “Fucking shit!”

She rolls onto her side, back to the commander. Thinking about it isn’t helping, and neither is the sardonic voice that reaches her ears a moment later.

“As enjoyable as it is standing here listening to you curse, I don’t think I’m really getting much out of it.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Jack snaps back, pounding one blue-glowing fist against the wall in front of her. Eyeing the dent appreciatively for a moment, she eventually turns and rolls and brings herself to a sitting position, on the edge of the bed this time. Shepard’s still too close, but when she puts her head in her hands it doesn’t seem so bad. “This is tough shit to spit out. Look, I’ve got a thing for the bitch, okay? Like…I don’t fucking know, a thing!”

Shepard’s quiet for a moment, and Jack’s torn between hoping she figures it out and hoping she’s totally lost. She’s still not even sure she really wants to talk about this.

“I thought you weren’t a ‘girl’s club kind of person’.”

Fuck, right on the fuckin’ head.

“Fuck you,” she curses, the first thing that pops into her head, “Or better yet don’t. Cause I’m not, okay? Chicks don’t usually get my panties in a twist, but her…I don’t even know. There’s something about her, it just makes me wanna bend her over a table and fuck her till she screams.”

“Uh…” Shepard is clearly uncomfortable, but Jack doesn’t care. She needs answers, and if anybody’s got them it’s the Queen of the Girl Scouts. “That sounds more like…well, that doesn’t sound like an emotional entanglement. I may not like Ms. Lawson, but nothing condones that kind of assault.”

Jack knows what she’s getting at. “Once again, fuck you. I’ve been on the receiving end of that, and I already told you how it ended. I might be a lot of things, but a rapist isn’t one. I want the bitch to  _want_  it.”

Their moods - Jack's anger and Shepard's discomfort - are a bad combination in the small space. The commander turns defensive and a little angry herself.

“Well excuse _me_! Considering you were a slave and then a slaver, how am I suppose to know where you draw your lines? Look,” Shepard takes a deep breath, obviously biting back her irritation before continuing. “Just tell me what you want from me. You’ve got the hots for the most irritating XO I’ve ever been forced to work with, but if that was all you wouldn’t have called me down here.”

Jack groans and scrubs her hands over the stubble that covers her scalp. Maybe Shepard isn’t the right person to talk to after all, if she jumped to a conclusion like that about the  _tamest_  of the fantasies Jack’s got about screwing that uptight bitch. If the commander had the faintest idea of the other things Jack’d like to do to that ass….but that’s a topic for another day.

“Look, I just need you to tell me what the fuck I should do, okay? You’ve got half the tail in the galaxy throwing itself at you, so quit being a bitch and share the mojo.”

“Mojo?” The blatant amusement in her voice is something Jack could do without, but at least she doesn’t leave it at that. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. If I’ve got ‘tail’ throwing itself at me, it’s probably because I’ve saved the galaxy, died, and been brought back to life. And it’s irrelevant anyway, because I’ve got the only person I want and I’m not interested in working my ‘mojo’ on anyone else.”

“God dammit, Shepard, that’s what I’m fucking asking about! How does the…the fuckin’…I don’t know, the  _relationship_  shit work?”

Shepard pushes off of the table, straightening up as her hands drop to her sides.

“Again, Jack, I don’t know what to tell you. Miranda…well, I've got some intel, and I swear if I hear back about this from anybody but the Shadow Broker herself I’ll throw you out an airlock. Miranda isn’t one for relationships _or_ women. She gets her jollies from anonymous extranet hookups, with men. Hate to say it, but I think your ‘thing’ is probably doomed from the get-go.”

“Fuck you,” Jack hisses at her, tears stinging her eyes despite the fact that she had already figured out that she’d probably never get further than shouting matches with the white-clad bitch on wheels. The redheaded commander had only put it into words.

Shepard turns to leave, then pauses. “I hope this doesn’t affect your readiness. This mission is too important.”

“Fuck you  _and_  your mission! Get the fuck out, don’t fuckin’ talk to me. You don’t wanna help me, fine, but I’ll make it happen! I didn’t survive this long by giving up on what I want.” She blinks, holding back the tears by force of her not-inconsiderable will, and raises her head at last. She glares at Shepard’s retreating back and calls after it, the easiest target for her rage. “Maybe I’ll make you a vid when I do finally tap that ass, and you can see what real fucking is like!”

Then Shepard was gone and Jack was alone with her impossible feelings for a woman who would never, ever be hers.

Fuck.

 


End file.
